Have you ever experienced a season that felt as dry as a desert, as bitter as a blizzard, and as wild and unknown as a wilderness?

A season that wrecks you to the innermost parts of your core

I have.

And it lasted almost four years.

A season that tests every part of your strength and ounce of your willpower, backing you into a corner where your head fills with thoughts of fear and doubt causing you to question everything you once knew to be true.

Sometimes that season lasts far more than what feels like just a season, it lasts years, occasionally even decades.

But it's in this wilderness time when you have a very important decision to make ---

To realize that this is only one part of the journey, and to allow yourself to truly learn and grow and develop into a person of wisdom, valor and strength.

Or, to succumb to the difficulties and challenges and be completely overtaken by anxiety, discouragement and disillusionment.

As much as Haiti has been a wildly beautiful adventure it has also been at times, my thickest, deepest and darkest wilderness.

It's easy to look at photos and short social media updates and believe that a life that has taken the path less traveled is one to be adorned with accolades and praise. It's normal to assume that life here is so beautiful and grand and filled with so many mountain top experiences that yield and abundance of self-gratification.

And sure, there are those days I feel like I'm walking on air. The days when my heart beams with pride to look and see what all God has done using me as an instrument of His work and grace.

But, there have been so many other days when I get lost in my head, when I doubt myself, my abilities and all I want to do is curl up into a ball and cry.

For four years I've had to adapt to a world so very different from the one in which I was raised. This world has been so rich and vibrant, but sometimes the waves have crashed hard and left me alone and in pain.

I don't ever think of myself as someone any better or different than anyone else, in fact, much of what I have experienced I would never wish on another soul.

I spent a good chunk of my first few years in Haiti avoiding and ignoring the fact that I was being taken through the very heart of a wilderness. I wanted to stay on the high on new adventures and experiences and not face the fact that I had real pain and issues in need of being dealt with.

For most of my life I've considered myself rather fearless, but that of course was simply because I had never been placed in a situation where I was forced to face my fears.

Isolation; the realization of feeling and being completely and utterly alone.

And then it happened. All of a sudden I ended up on a crazy island alone figuring out how in the world to survive.

The pain of the realization of what true sacrifice means, what it means to weigh the cost and recognize how much must be surrendered in order to fully move forward in the direction that your life is destined to go, can at times leave you feeling as though you can't breathe, as though someone has kicked you in the gut and you're left gasping for air.

When you break your leg you can try to ignore the pain. You can pretend like the damage isn't there and it will somehow suddenly resolve itself, but that fact is, you can't leave broken bones and unattended. You can't escape the pain and imagine it's not there. You have to walk through every ounce of the pain. You have to go through the entire healing and rehabilitation process in order to be able to walk again.

And such it is with the wildernesses of life.

We have to walk through them in order to come out on the other side. We have to face every fear, feel every ounce of pain, and learn every difficult, challenging and uncomfortable lesson.

Often times we are deathly afraid of the revelation that comes with the season of wilderness. All the realizations that expose our places of deepest vulnerability, frailties and the secrets we bury and hide with the intention of never being discovered or seen.

However, it's in the wilderness where we begin to find our truest selves. Where we being to discover who we truly are and what we are made out of.

It's where you get to realize you're stronger than you ever expected yourself to be.

You learn you can withstand the most powerful winds and rains and still be standing once it passes.

And the most beautiful truth is that every season of wilderness will come to an end. Every winter will be followed by spring, and every desert has an oasis.

Last year I read the acclaimed tale of The Alchemist, a story of a young boy on a quest to discover his personal legend, or destiny for lack of a better term. There is so much beauty and truth written in this book that directly correlates with the theme of walking through life's deserts such as the following quote:

What you still need to know is this: before a dream is realized, the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way. It does this not because it is evil, but so that we can, in addition to realizing our dreams, master the lessons we’ve learned as we’ve moved toward that dream. That’s the point at which, as we say in the language of the desert, one ‘dies of thirst just when the palm trees have appeared on the horizon.

— The Alchemist, Paolo Coelho

When you're walking in the pathway of your destiny, you will be tested, every single ounce of you. You'll be forced to question if you made a mistake, and at times, even question your very existence.

Many people want to give up right before the clearing and the path out of the wilderness appears, or as The Alchemist put it, they die of thirst right as palm trees have appeared on the horizon.

I've wanted to give up so many times.

So many times I have thought about getting on a plane, leaving this godforsaken place and never looking back.

But then, I remember that Haiti, the wildernesses it throws my way, and all of the frustrations that come with this life are all apart of my personal legend, my destiny.

I have the choice to give up right as help arrives, or I can choose to persevere and learn the lesson that will only make me stronger and wiser, and more equipped to continue.

For as long as I live I will have wildernesses I'm required to walk through.

I will have heartache and pain.

I will have love and loss.

I will have times of defeat and feelings of disheartenment.

However, I will also have the opportunity to use those moments to allow me to reveal to me how to do this life better, how to love deeper, how to fight injustice more passionately, and how to help guide others through their own individual wildernesses.

I can die of thirst, or I can wait and know that the palm trees will appear on the horizon.

I can choose to be overcome by hopelessness, or I can know that each wilderness is an opportunity to prove that I am ready and capable, equipped and prepared to receive and walk into the realizations of my dreams.

So, take heart.

The wilderness is only a season, and you will come out and see the horizon once again.

I saw a photo of a spectacular mural on Instagram the other day. It was a bright pink background with a blue hand firmly grasping a bouquets of daisies, and beside the hand lay the words;

They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds.

Those words pierced into my heart, and really got me thinking...

Living life as a woman is an interesting thing. As a girl, there are still many things you misinterpret as your fault. Things you understand as your flaws and imperfections become parts of you you learn to apologize for and hide away, when in fact they are a very real part of your entire makeup.

At times you are silenced, ostracized and ignored. You never fully understand why, but always assume it must have been something you said or did wrong.

However, when you become a woman, that view slowly begins to change. As you take the first steps to becoming your most authentic sense of self you start to recognize your true identity and worth.

Little by little you begin to see the true motive behind the actions. The true meaning underneath the words.

And slowly, you begin to realize, that for the rest of your life there will always be someone who is trying to silence you, cast you aside, and bury you.

Women are remarkable creatures. We have a passion that can seize an army, We have a drive with infinite energy. We have a force and a strength as wild and unstoppable as a hurricane. And we have an ability to love that can engulf the seas.

We heal and we create life.

We are tender, yet we are warriors.

Gentle as doves, and wise as serpents.

And yet, for the rest of all time there will be those who wish to keep us trapped behind our weaknesses, and so-called inabilities.

The things that we love will always be "girl" things. The colors, the flavors, the scents and even locations, if it makes us come alive it somehow defines us, and in turn is a part of us, and a overwhelming representation, has often times has been translated into disgust.

Instead of understanding that your emotions are beautiful and powerful, they are communicated as "too much," "crazy", or "weak."

And our bodies.

Oh, our bodies.

Always a topic of discussion.

Our weight, our face, our age, our height, our skin color, hair color, eye color, figure, every single part of us is scrutinized, gawked at, and lusted after from before we even fully understand to the extent which we are being judged.

Cover ourselves.

Hide ourselves.

Preserve ourselves.

As if we are fruit that will spoil.

While this is not always the case, or experience, it happens so frequently you begin to become immune to it until you finally realize what's been going on all along.

As women we are given two choices as to how we respond to this baffling phenomenon of the scrutiny and mistreatment of the female gender.

We can succumb to it and allow it to bury us completely. Forever we remain victims walking around as empty shells distrusting everyone and feeling as though we will only ever be seen as incompetent and something to be exploited.

Or, we can choose to be seeds, and allow the stomping down, and the burying to be the very soil from which we set roots, and burst forth with vigor as bright and glorious trees and flowers.

We can be seeds who spread into fields of wildflowers, forests of redwood trees, or botanical gardens of wonder.

Or, we can be dry and sharp, like cacti in the desert.

Every time you are mansplained, gaslighted, or underestimated can be an opportunity to shape you into a smart and eloquent pilar of strength and dignity.

You have the choice to grow, to and stand in the sun and allow its rays to make you shine.

When you begin to allow these shameful and uncomfortable truths to be uncovered and exposed, you slowly break free.

You grow wings, which give you the elevation to be able to enter into a place of enlightenment and empowerment so you can recognize the entrapment of other women, and help them find their own wings.

You start to speak up and speak out without worrying about the backlash, but simply focusing on the goal.

You begin to realize you don't have to apologize like you always thought you should.

You band together with other women who have come into the same realization and work together to protect and uplift your sisters.

And you come to this place of peace where you know, that they may try to bury you, but they don't know you are seeds.

You will continue to rise.

You will continue to grow.

You will come out smiling at the sun.

From a small seed a mighty trunk may grow. 

— Aeschylus

So my dear sisters, be a small seed from which mighty trunks can grow.

Rise up out of ashes of pain and trauma and be warriors for truth and justice.

Treat one another with love and respect, regardless of how you are treated.

And always, always fight for the freedom of the silenced and exploited.

Time has a funny way of sneaking up on you. One moment to the next may feel but mere seconds in duration, when in reality years of your life have just passed by.

Four years ago tomorrow, a very passionate, naïve, energetic, yet clueless 25 year old girl moved to Haiti.

I’ll never forget my first few days, weeks, and months in Haiti. Lifelong fantasies of traveling the world doing good, which I had dreamt about since childhood, were finally coming to pass. I devoured any opportunity to experience every part of Haiti that I could. Riding motorcycle taxis with the wind blowing through my hair, eating fried chicken and plantains off the street, filling up buckets of water to bathe, every part of the life and culture I had the pleasure of experiencing awakened me deep into the very recesses of my soul.

My journey in Haiti began without a road map and a well marked trail. It was a blind trek across uneven terrain and dark valleys, and to the summits of the highest of mountain peaks.

Nothing prepares you for the day you hold a child dying of chronic malnutrition.

No college course or textbook can truly encompass the deeply complex subject of poverty and its effects.

There’s no manual on how to relocate to a foreign land, and respectfully and graciously adapt well to it’s environment and culture.

I was prepared for adventure and excitement, but was entirely blindsided by discoveries of how many unique ways your heart could be broken, and how utterly debilitating isolation can be.

Four years is enough time for a girl to become a woman. Enough time for her to begin to realize her true value, worth and capabilities. Enough time for her to completely fall apart and be put back together again. And enough time for her to truly find herself in the midst of what can feel like sheer chaos.

Four years ago I was embarking on a voyage of self-discovery, which would challenge the very core of my being.

For the past four years I’ve lived in a chasm; a chasm that is caught between the sensation of flying, and the terror of drowning.

A constant state of juxtaposition witnessing the joy of a soul transform before your eyes, while being penetrated by the deep agony inflicted by the heart wrenching realities of poverty.

Learning how to walk all over again.

And now, I’ve reached this place. This place where the things that used to feel so unfamiliar have now become a part of me.

This place where my second language has become second nature.

Where this raw collision of cultures has finally found a way to feel normal.

And coming to Haiti is truly coming home.

Over the years I’ve met remarkable people, and have experienced inexplicable moments, but I think what has left me speechless the most are the things that happened within the walls of a little place called Jasper House.

Today I sat with all of our residents to reconnect with them, talk about issues and hard things, and remind them that we are a house of love and family.

In the past month we have accepted six new women, two of whom are pregnant.

As they all sat around me today, all nine women and two children, it was an overwhelming moment that left me without words.

Four years ago I had no idea where God would take me. I had no idea that my heart would become filled with such a fervent passion to see the women of this country freed and restored, that it would alter the entire course of my life.

And now, I sit and look at these precious faces and watch them learn how to rediscover themselves.

I watch them too, metaphorically, being to learn to walk again.

I see light and glimmer return to their eyes as hope and joy slowly begin to over shadow pain and brokenness.

So I say today and looked at each beautiful face and once again found myself completely awestruck by the fact that this is my life. This is the life I so undeservedly get to live.

Our story is just one miracle after another. Watching God continuously take the impossible and turn it into the possible right before our eyes.

As one revolution around the sun comes to a close, and another one begins, I find myself yet again so overwhelmed by the wonder of it all.

How so much beauty can spring forth from such deep pain.

How suffering can create strength, wisdom and courage.

And mostly, how God never fails.

He hears the cries and prayers of those who feel so forgotten, and He answers them with you and me.

In a few months, two babies will be born to Jasper House. Two more babies who won’t have to grow up institutionalized in an orphanage.

Eleven women currently find refuge and shelter within our walls.

Fifty-eight reignite their dreams and passion in our education centre.

And here I stand aghast by it all, thinking back to my most earliest thoughts four years ago.

All I had was a willing and obedient heart, and apparently that’s all you need for God to decide that you’re somebody He can use.